


Black's House of Curiosities

by TheFifthBiscuit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Hogwarts, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Light Angst, Light Spooks, M/M, Musical References, Recreational Drug Use, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-10-18 12:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17581178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFifthBiscuit/pseuds/TheFifthBiscuit
Summary: “Seeking wizard lodger for London townhouse. Rent reasonable, references optional. Good taste in music essential. Enquiries in person at Black’s House of Curiosities. Bring records.”Featuring lies, secrets, and attempts at spooky angst.





	Black's House of Curiosities

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to J for reading over this for me. <3
> 
> Based on this prompt picture: 

“Remus, that you?”

The voice echoed up from somewhere in the vicinity of the back stairs as Remus descended into the shop. Black’s House of Curiosities was a sight to behold. Part antique shop, part jumble sale, it was an array of hat stands, grandfather clocks and wicker chairs, of books and beads, and of spindly end tables and knick-knacks, all stacked into two surprising stable aisles stretching back through the long, narrow house. Near the main stairs was a counter, strewn with jewelry and ledgers, whatever book Sirius was currently reading, and a small box of old photographs and postcards.

“Well, I should hope so, unless you’ve gone and moved someone else in while I wasn’t looking.”

Sirius appeared, looking less ridiculous than he should, in jeans and an old-fashioned paisley dressing gown. He popped the piece of toast he was chewing out of his mouth, and eyed the jam spread on it critically. “Lodger infidelity? I would never.” he said, spreading the jam into the corner more with a finger. He took a bite, and added “Besides, you’re the only one weird enough to move in here.”

“True enough.” Remus said, unable to stop the small smile that twisted his mouth up in one corner. He was becoming much too fond of Sirius, a situation that couldn’t be allowed to continue. He liked living there. Liked the creaky old house and the shop full of oddities. He especially liked unravelling the many contradictions of his eccentric landlord. Unrestrained and joyful, secretive and melancholic. Sirius was ruled by whatever he happened to be feeling at the time, a trait which was more endearing to Remus than it should be. It was too bad none of this could last. Best not to get too attached.

“You’re off already?” Sirius said, when Remus pulled his coat off the banister. He needed to get out of the habit of leaving it there. Sirius was going to sell it by accident one of these days.

“Yeah, I’m meeting a friend for breakfast.” he said, pulling the coat on.

“A friend friend?” Sirius asked, nibbling his toast and making an incredibly transparent attempt to seem uninterested.

“And what exactly is a friend friend?” Remus asked, doing his coat buttons up.

“Er, you know. Just a friendly friend. For doing... friendly stuff with...” Sirius muttered. He took another bite and chewed it savagely, looking mortified.

“Is that your way of asking me if it’s _just_ a friend?”

“What, no, It just - I didn’t mean it like that, I only meant…” Sirius sighed and gave him a rueful smile. “I should probably just stop talking now, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably,” Remus said, not as offended as he tried to be. Sirius was all confidence and charm until he actually meant it, and he found that incredibly compelling. “Or at least take your foot out of your mouth first.”

Sirius swatted at him with his toast. “Be nice. It’s very early for me.”

“Ah, thinking of opening the shop at the times advertised on your door for once?”

“Of course not. Why break the habit of a lifetime?” Sirius said. “Besides, Pete isn’t here yet.”

Remus pulled the door open and eyed the empty doorstep. “Right, how would you possibly deal with the masses of early morning antiquers without your assistant?”

“Mmhmm, I’d hate for him to miss the rush. I just hope he doesn’t bring any more of his gran’s tacky ornaments in, there was a whole box last week.”

“Heaven forbid, that paperweight was hideous.”

“Tell me about it, I just shoved the whole box upstairs to sort through another time.”

“Or never?”

“I like the way you think.” Sirius said, sharing a little grin with him. Remus wrapped his scarf around his neck and stepped out into the cold Autumn air. The bell above the door jingled behind him as he made his way to meet someone who was definitely not a friend. Yet another lie. He’d been lying his whole life, but somehow spending the last three weeks lying to Sirius felt even worse.

 

* * *

 

The ad in the Prophet had read:

_“Seeking wizard lodger for London townhouse. Rent reasonable, references optional. Good taste in music essential. Inquiries in person at Black’s House of Curiosities. Bring records.”_

He’d brought _The Velvet Underground_ , and they’d sat out on the back step smoking a joint. They didn’t talk - Sirius said he wanted to see if they could have a ‘companionable silence’, and despite Remus’ protests that saying those words would doom any silence to being awkward, that was exactly what they fell into. It was… comfortable. Stretched out on the step watching the lazy coils of smoke, while _Pale Blue Eyes_ echoed out from the record player inside.

“I like this one. It’s… ethereal.” Sirius said finally.

“It’s beautiful,” Remus said. “Beautiful, and simple, and complicated.”

“Complicated?”

“Did you know it was written about someone with hazel eyes, despite the title?”

Sirius took a while before answering. “I guess it’s more about the feeling.” he said, and Remus felt a little warm knot in his chest.

“Exactly.” He murmured, and closed his eyes to try to soak in the moment. “She was married, you know.” he said eventually.

“Who was?”

“The woman. The woman who didn’t have blue eyes.”

“I’m married,” Sirius murmured. Remus blinked but didn’t say anything, just passed him the joint back. “I’m married to this shop.” he elaborated.

Remus had no idea what _that_ was supposed to mean. It was like Sirius was having two conversations simultaneously, but Remus was only invited to one of them. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not going to write you any songs, then,” he said.

Sirius only nodded. “Good. That’s good.” he stubbed out the joint and stood, stretching his arms over his head. “So, when are you moving in?”

The way he said it was another mystery - abrupt, not quite looking at him. Like he was ripping off a plaster from a wound he wasn't certain was fully healed. Remus didn't drag it out by asking if he was sure, or any of the other questions that sprung to mind. There'd be time for that later. No need to ruin a perfectly good afternoon with trivialities. “I was thinking maybe Thursday.” he said, and followed Sirius back inside.

That Thursday, Marlene helped him load the stuff from their flat into the van, and drove him down to the shop. Sirius had roped two friends into helping out too - James and Peter. James was another Pureblood, he and Sirius had shared a tutor group for Charms one year and become fast friends.

Peter was Homegrown like him and Marlene, educated by family and books without the expensive tutors. His family had a knack for Transfiguration, and he showed Remus how to turn paper napkins into doves in exchange for tips on warding off kelpies.

They all gathered in the kitchen of Number Twelve for a beer when it was done, and Remus explained that he had to go visit his parents in the country for the weekend. He moved in properly after the full moon.

* * *

 

 

The greasy spoon was heaving when he arrived, but the waitress still recognised him. She nodded towards a table in the back corner.

“The usual?” she asked, already punching it into the till. He nodded and slipped her the money, before heading over.

The two men at the table were deep in quiet conversation as he approached the table, but quickly cut off when they noticed him slide into a seat opposite them.

“Mr Lupin, welcome.”

As usual, Scrimgeour's greeting was polite but frosty when Remus slid into the seat opposite him. Strictly professional. Dawlish, on the other hand, made no such efforts to conceal his distaste.

“I hope you’ve got something for us this time, half-breed.” he sneered.

Remus looked down at his folded hands, saying nothing. Scrimgeour sighed. “We had a deal, Mr Lupin. If you want to continue to benefit from the protection of the Auror Office, you need to work with us on this.”

The Auror Office pretty much had Remus by the short and curlies, which was how he’d found himself leaving the flat he shared with Marlene to go and live with Sirius. He’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the Wizengamot were known to be much more severe with werewolves. Especially in the current climate, where there was a lot of political pressure to be seen to be dealing with anything ‘dark’. Scrimgeour and Dawlish had hauled him into the Auror cells on the night Fenrir Greyback had been killed, and offered him an alternative.

It was exactly the kind of misfortune Remus had come to expect from life, to be blackmailed into moving in with, and spying on, a man he could easily have fallen for if the circumstances were different. But they weren’t, and he couldn’t, so all he could do was try to prove Sirius’ innocence, and get himself out of the other man’s life as soon as possible. It didn’t stop him from feeling guilty, though. He pulled the folder out of his bag and placed it on the table. “He keeps a log of everything he buys and who brought it in, stuff like that. I duplicated it for you.”

Scrimgeour nudged the file over to Dawlish. “Have Richard look it over - if there’s anything dark-looking we might be able to get a warrant,” he said.

Dawlish went to take the folder, but Remus’ palm slapped down onto it, holding it in place. “Look, Sirius is clean. I’ve seen nothing at all so far to indicate he’s doing anything other than running a legitimate business,” he told him.

“Legitimate,” Dawlish snorted, and snatched the folder away. He flicked through it as he continued. “Don’t make me laugh. Do you know how high that place's Fletcher number is?”

The waitress appeared with his tea and a bacon sandwich, and Remus thanked her with a smile. “What's a Fletcher number?” he asked.

Scrimgeour made a face. “There’s a saying in the Department that the number of times Mundungus Fletcher visits a place is directly proportional to the number of crimes that take place there. Regardless of whether or not those crimes actually involve him. It’s tasteless, and not a metric we actually use as a basis for an investigation,” he explained, giving Dawlish a pointed look. “But it is surprisingly accurate.”

Remus shook his head. “He never buys anything from Dung.”

“So you have seen him there,” Dawlish said. He smirked as he closed the folder, setting it aside to study Remus with a smug smile.

Remus crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat to stare at Dawlish. “Why are you so set on catching him out? What has he done to attract so much attention?”

“His family have a very dark history. Someone working for You-Know-Who has been moving dark objects on the black market, and Mr Black has the connections, and the perfect set up.” Scrimgeour said. His tone was calm and even as he spoke, but his eyes showed his distaste.

“Sirius would never get involved in that.”

Dawlish huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “This is why we don’t use civvies for undercover work, Rufus,” he said, brown eyes turning to Remus. “You’re getting too attached, mutt.”

Remus was standing before he knew what was happening, palms spread on the table and arms clenching. “Don’t call me that.”

“Dawlish, that’s enough,” Scrimgeour’s quiet rebuttal killed whatever insult the other Auror was going to throw at him next. “If I were you, Remus, I’d find out more about who Mr Black really is before you get too invested in protecting him,” Scrimgeour cautioned. He stood, stacking his and Dawlish’s plates and cups. “To start with, why don’t you ask him what happened to his brother? Nasty business, that.”

“Look, you told me to watch him and I have. There's simply nothing to report.”

“Or you don't want to report it. Getting a little too sympathetic, are you?” Dawlish chimed in.

Scrimgeour just pushed the folder into Dawlish’s arms. “We'll be back on Friday. Try to have something more useful to tell us. Remember, we're all that's standing between you and Azkaban.”

“And what about the… other thing?” Remus asked.

Scrimgeour paused, hand gripping the back of his chair. “Mr Lupin, Fenrir Greyback is dead. I should know, I escorted his body to the Ministry morgue myself.  I understand you’re in a stressful position, Mr Lupin, but please don’t waste my time with this.”

“I've seen him,” Remus said. “Not a ghost, and not my eyes playing tricks. He stands there in plain sight and then he vanishes without a trace.”

“You mean he disapparates?” Scrimgeour said. “Sounds like someone is playing a trick on you with polyjuice.”

“No, he just… dissolves. Just melts away like he was never there. No apparition crack, nothing. I glimpse him, I grab my wand or move towards him, and then he’s just gone.”

“I have seen a lot of strange things in my time as an Auror, Mr Lupin, but people don’t simply melt away.”

“Well he bloody did!” Remus snapped. He took a breath, and tried to find a way to make him understand. “Mr Scrimgeour, I saw an - an _apparition_ of the man who turned me into this, the man who was sending me death threats, the man who, if he’s somehow still alive, might think I’m the reason he was almost killed,” Remus scowled up at Scrimgeour. “You said if I did this, you’d protect me, so keep up your end of the deal.”

Dawlish was visibly amused at him jumping at shadows, but Scrimgeour only raised an eyebrow. “Mr Lupin, you’re under a lot of stress, and I think your mind is playing tricks on you. Look, if it will make you feel better I’ll assign someone to escort you to and from work at a discrete distance, but you need to start working with us. This log book you brought us was a good start. Can you get us the rest of Black’s accounts?” Scrimgeour asked. The Greyback conversation was, apparently, over as far as he was concerned.

“Don’t you think there are other priorities right now? Even if it isn’t Greyback, his followers, the other werewolves-”

“Mr Lupin, you were seen entering Mr Greyback’s hideaway shortly before the ministry raid began. The only reason you’re not in Azkaban as we speak is because we couldn’t tie you conclusively to any crime scenes, or find evidence of any previous visits to the cabin. If you’re so concerned about the movements of the other werewolves, maybe you should tell us a few of their names.”

“I’ve told you, I don’t know their names.”

“Then if you want to keep enjoying our protection, get us those books. Or we’ll throw you to the wolves.” Scrimgeour waved Dawlish on and the two headed for the door. “Don’t make us doubt your loyalty.” were his parting words.  


* * *

Despite himself, the Aurors’ words played on Remus’ mind throughout his shift. Usually, he liked that his job in the supermarket kept his body busy and freed his mind up for other things, but on days like this it was more of a curse. He could always ask Sirius about it like they suggested, but Sirius always changed the subject whenever family came up. The only reason he knew the shop had been Sirius’ ancestral home was because of the portrait. A painting of Walburga Black sat at the bottom of the staircase, sneering out across the shop with a constant expression of distaste.

“My mother,” Sirius had said when he asked. “She put a permanent sticking charm on the back of it, just to spite me, so I put one on her mouth.” The painting gave a haughty sniff and looked away.

Remus had stepped closer to look at the tiny brushstrokes making up the mouth. Grim implications about Sirius’ relationship with his family aside, he was at least impressed with the control it must have taken to stick such a small strip of paint together and leave the rest free to move. “That’s some difficult spellwork.”

Sirius had answered from halfway up the stairs, hand tightening on the banister for a moment. “We all go the extra mile for family, one way or another.”

All things considered, Remus didn't think it wise to start asking questions about his brother. He said as much to Marlene, the only person who knew the full extent of the mess he'd found himself in.

“I still think you should just lay it all out on the table,” she told him, as he walked her down to the bus stop. The pavement was icy as hell and they trudged along with their arms linked in an attempt to stabilise each other.

“Of course, what could possibly be the matter with that plan,” Remus muttered. “They’ll throw me in Azkaban, then they'll find a way to send Sirius there too… but I’m sure Sirius will have no hard feelings, and maybe the dementors will let us share a cell.”

Marlene only shrugged. “So, you like the guy but you won’t do anything about it because you’re lying to him, and you think that when he eventually finds this out, he’ll hate you… but you also refuse to tell him the truth.”

“Yes, exactly.”

They reached the bus stop and she hugged him tightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Fuck the Aurors,” she said, sticking her arm out for the bus. “You’re scared of what he’ll think of you, but the longer you leave it the worse it will be. You’re already in a prison, Rem. Scrimgeour and Dawlish might have built the cell, but you’re the one keeping the door shut.”

Remus gritted his teeth, but nodded. There was no point telling her it wasn’t as simple as she was making it sound. “I’ll think about it,” he told her, but he was pretty sure he was lying.

The thing was though, as he waved the bus off and headed home, that the shop had become just that - home. He’d tried to think about it as “the shop” or “Sirius’s place”, but he always seemed to default to “home”. Which was alarming, when he’d only been there a few weeks. As interesting as the building and the shop’s contents were, Remus could admit it was probably more to do with the shop’s owner. Maybe if he told him, if he explained it right, they could figure out some sort of solution.

Or… Maybe Sirius was onto him and trying to seduce his secrets out of him. Seduce him with awkwardness and truly clumsy attempts at flirting. Unusual method, sure, but Merlin was it working.

Remus was so busy trying to convince himself that Sirius could be running a diabolical scheme of awkward seduction that he knocked shoulders with a broad-shouldered man who seemed to be in a hurry. Remus turned his head to apologise, but the man kept walking, throwing a glance over his shoulder. What startled Remus wasn’t the man who had knocked him, though. It was the man stood under the lamppost at the end of the road, bulky arms and chest straining the confines of his robes, staring at him. Remus glimpsed grey hair and sharp teeth, and then the man was simply gone. No crack of apparition, no movement, just faded away into the night.

Remus’ had curled tight around his wand as he hurried back home, not taking any chances. Fenrir Greyback wouldn’t give a shit that there were muggles around.

 

* * *

It was full dark by the time he reach the door to Black’s Curiosities. The building had the standard Muggle-repellant charms that would make the place seem derelict to Muggle eyes. James’ family were particularly skilled with Herbology and Potions, and he’d charmed ivy to coil neatly around the iron fencing. Lily had handpainted the sign over the door.

Remus found James and Sirius were downstairs in the kitchen, in deep discussion over firewhiskey. They were more solemn than he usually saw them, at least until James glanced up and grinned at him. “Remus, you look like you need a drink! Rough shift?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t even know how to describe it,” Remus said, taking a seat around the corner from them. His knee bumped Sirius’, and they both shifted apart a little, not looking at each other. James raised an eyebrow at him, but Remus ignored it. Marlene was bad enough without James starting on him too.

James summoned a glass from the cupboard, and Remus poured himself a generous measure. Sirius finally looked up from the intense scrutiny he’d been giving his firewhiskey. “So, why was your day shit?” he asked, taking a sip.

Remus figured he may as well catch up. He took a long drink, wincing a little and coughing out smoke. The ‘fire’ part got a bit too literal with the cheap stuff. Less finesse to the brewing charms. Bought by Sirius, most likely - James usually brought Ogden’s, but Sirius claimed to prefer the burn of lesser whiskeys. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” he answered. “What had you two looking so serious? James’ love life again?”

“For once, no,” Sirius said, smile amused and warm once more. “For some reason, Evans has seen fit to give Jamie a chance to prove he’s not the insufferable prat she thinks he is,” Sirius smirked and ruffled James’ hair affectionately. “Too bad he _is_ a complete prat, but at least he has something to look forward to.”

“So what was it?” Remus asked.

“Maybe it was Sirius’ love life,” James said in the most innocent tone he could muster, which was not very effective.

“Don’t even go there you little shit,” Sirius hissed. He cast a flustered look back at Remus, who ducked his head to hide a smile. How could he worry that Sirius was some sort of Death Eater pawnbroker, when he was so unsubtle? 

“Sirius has a love life?” he asked. James and Sirius were both from seriously old Pureblood families. If anyone would know any spells or potions that could explain what he’d seen that night, it would be them. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to bring it up without having to explain why he wanted to know, and that would just lead to even more questions.

“Oh, I think he’d like to,” James was saying. “Got a little crush, I think.”

“James, shut up, Remus doesn’t want to hear about this,” Sirius said. There was a soft ‘oof’ noise as James received an elbow to the stomach. “We were talking about quidditch,” he said.

“Quidditch?” Remus asked flatly. He’d never known Sirius to express any interest whatsoever in the sport.

“Yeah… Sirius was really disappointed with the Magpies’ performance at the weekend. Poor effort from their seeker,” James said.

“I heard it on the wireless, it was a close thing,” Remus said, letting the conversation move on. The problem of what to do with Sirius was one he was more than happy to set aside for today, even if his own grasp of the sport left a lot to be desired. James was apparently not quite ready to let it go, though.

“See, the seeker - McCullough - had the snitch right there in front of him. Right in front of his face, blatant as you like, so _obvious_ that anyone could have seen it. But for some reason, maybe it was the weather, or because he was in the middle of a dive, or he wasn’t sure what the score was… but for some reason, McCullough just didn’t reach out and take it, and in the end someone else did and McCullough missed out.” They’d obviously had more firewhiskey that Remus had originally thought. James leaned forward, tapping his finger on the table to emphasise his point. “He missed out, when if he’d just taken a chance he could have reached out and grabbed it. Isn’t that frustrating? Sirius was _very_ frustrated, in fact-”

“Fuck this, I’m going to bed.” Sirius was out the door before Remus could say anything. He stood to follow, but James grabbed his wrist.

“Trust me, I’ve known Sirius forever -  it’s no good talking to him right now. I pushed too far, he needs time to cool off,” he said, dropping Remus’ arm and topping up their glasses. Reluctantly, Remus sat.

“I’m not blind James, I know there’s something there. I just…”

“You’re more subtle about it than he is, but I’ve seen you looking,” James said. “So what’s the problem? Just ask him out. Or, skip that and just give him the snogging of his life, the man’s gagging for it.”

“I can’t. There’s… a lot you don’t know about me, and you might not be so keen for me to snog your best mate if you knew those things.”

“You mean, because you’re a werewolf?” James snorted at Remus’ stunned expression. “Well, if you wanted it to be a secret, you probably should have found a more subtle place for your lunar calendar than the top drawer of your desk.”

“You went through my stuff?”

“With everything that’s going on out there?” James snorted. “‘Course we did. These are dark times.”

“Can’t really argue with that...” Remus shrugged. Funny how lycanthropy had been the least of his worries for once this month. “And you’re OK with that? _Sirius_ is OK with that?” That would explain why Sirius kept listening to _Werewolves of London_ all the time. What an arse. He probably thought he was hilarious.

James patted him on the shoulder and polished off his drink. “We all have our quirks. So, is that why you haven’t… I mean, you know he’s the snitch, right? And you’re-”

“-McCullough, yeah, I picked up on your very subtle metaphor.” Remus chuckled. “That’s a part of it, people can get hurt around… people like me. There are other reasons… I mean, one is that I feel like Sirius has his own reasons for keeping his distance, and I’d like to respect that.”

James hesitated. “He’s… been through a lot. His parents died, which was complicated for him, and they left him this place… Regulus was going to take it off his hands, but then he died and... I think it’s doing him good, having someone around you know? Sirius doesn’t do well by himself, and this place, it isn’t-”

“Regulus?” Remus asked, remembering Scrimgeour’s words from earlier. He hated that he was letting them get to him, but this was probably the only chance he would get to find out what they meant.

“His brother. Did he not…?”

“He never said.”

James ran a hand over his face. “Of course he didn’t. Look, a while ago… Sirius lost his brother, Regulus. They didn’t really get along that well, it’s complicated with his family. After their parents died, they both took it pretty hard, though. Sirius… well, at first he said he was going to sell everything, get rid of it all, and then sell the house. The shop started off more like a car boot sale - once he’d disposed of all the dark stuff he just opened it up to everyone - but then people started bringing their own stuff in to sell, and he got a sign over the door and… Honestly, I still don’t know why he stays here.” James ran a hand through his hair. “Reg hated him for it. They were never that close in the first place, but they had to live with each other, you know? But he saw what Sirius did with the place as disrespecting their ancestral home, and he couldn’t forgive that. The Blacks were… very old school, and Regulus got kind of obsessed with making them proud. He fell in with a bad crowd, and next thing we knew Sirius was burying him too. The Dark Mark was in the sky where they found him, but it was also on his arm, so… They’re not sure if Regulus cast it, or if it was some sort of internal power struggle, or what. We’ll probably never know.”

“I had no idea,” Remus said. No wonder Sirius was the way he was, always trying to warn him off. People got hurt around Sirius, too.

“He’s been worse, since then. This house… It’s like he just can't let go of it.” James sighed. “He deserves a little happiness, and I think you probably do too. Will you at least think about it?” James said.

“I will.” Remus said for the second time that night, only this time it sounded like less of a lie.

“I’ve got to go, I’m meeting Wormtail in a bit, so-”

"Wormtail?”

James’ mouth did a complicated movement like he was trying to go backwards and erase the word. Remus frowned. “Er- Peter. I meant Peter. It’s an old nickname. Long story. We’ll tell you all about it some time, I swear, but right now I gotta-”

“Sure,” Remus said, and showed him out.

Sirius showed no inclination towards reappearing after James left, so Remus decided to call it a night. He thought about everything James had told him as he headed for the stairs. The aisles of Black’s Curiosities seemed more sinister in the dark, casting long shadows over him as he made his way through. On a shelving unit full of jars and skulls and little figurines, dozens of faces stared at him, haughty and cold, as if they’d judged him and found him lacking. He hurried upstairs, headed for bed. Before he climbed in, though, he glanced out of the window.

A man stood in the street, looking up at the house, at Remus’ window, as if he’d been waiting. As soon as he locked eyes with Remus, he faded away into the night. The pointy-toothed grin was the last thing to vanish.

 

* * *

The next day, Greyback was everywhere. He was in the crowd at the market when Sirius declared he needed more fruit and veg in his life and dragged him down there. He was sat a few seats down on the tube, and then gone when Remus did a double-take. He was reflected in the ornate mirror half covered with cloth that leaned against the grandfather clock, just for a split second in the corner of Remus’ eye.

Sirius seemed equally troubled by something. His animated chatter as they wandered the market just seemed less enthusiastic than normal, and he looked pale and tired. He kept looking like he wanted to say something and then seeming to change his mind.

Remus holed up in his room for the afternoon, with a large tome on spirits and apparitions. It was hard going and supremely unhelpful, recommending a paste of bubotober pus and crushed flobberworms to ward off malevolent spirits. That was the problem with relying on ancient books written by batty old wizards for magical knowledge. There was all sorts of nonsense to wade through. Too bad the Wizarding World had never been able to agree with each other long enough to create a standardised curriculum.

Remus finally gave up just after lunchtime. He needed to talk to Sirius. Actually talk, not just chat about which cauliflower to buy. Sirius had apparently had the same thought, because they narrowly avoided walking into each other on the landing.

“I need to speak to you,” they said in conjunction. Sirius let out a nervous laugh, sweeping back a wave of dark hair.

“Maybe you should go first,” Remus said. Whatever Sirius had to say couldn’t possibly be more complicated.

“Right, well you’d better get your coat,” Sirius said, and headed for the stairs as if that was a perfectly reasonable answer.

“Where are we going?” Remus said, heading down the stairs.

“I’ll explain when we get there. I’ll explain everything. It’s just… It has to be told right, you know, so there’s someone you should speak to.”

“Sirius, you’re not making any sense,” Remus said, as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Sirius passed him his coat and looked at him expectantly, so all Remus could really do was put it on.

“I know, I’m sorry. I promised I wouldn’t say anything until we got there,” Sirius said.

“Where are you two off to now?” demanded a cross voice from behind the counter. Peter slouched there, chin on his hands, regarding them both with an expression of extreme boredom. “You’re not leaving me here on my bill again, are you?”

“Chin up, Pete, you’re not missing out on much,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes. “I’m taking Remus to see _him_ , that’s all. It’s about time he knew the score.”

“Oh,” Peter turned curious eyes on Remus. “Did you tell him about the-”

“Not yet, shut up.” Sirius glanced around the shop, making sure no customers were in earshot. “Merlin, Pete, not here.”

* * *

 

 

Sirius apparated them to an inner city street with paint peeling off the brickwork. A mining town, maybe, and suffering for it from the looks of it. Limestone bricks, and hills all around. Yorkshire, possibly. A doll’s pram sat abandoned outside one house, and as he hurried after Sirius they passed a couple of kids playing kerby in the road.

“Did you ever play?” Remus asked, but Sirius shook his head.

“Nah,” he said. “My parents had more of a seen-and-not-heard policy for us. Or at least, we weren’t allowed to play out on the street like ruffians.”

“You always make yourself heard now.” Remus observed.

Sirius nodded. “I make sure of it.”

“I wasn’t allowed either,” Remus said. “I was only five when I was bitten. My parents thought it was best to keep me away from other kids… until I was old enough to lie well, at least.”

“And what age was that?” Sirius asked, hands stuffed inside his leather jacket. Remus caught the measuring look he was giving him and shook his head.

“Younger than you’d think,” he said. “My whole life has been one big lie since then.”

“You can tell me the truth though,” Sirius said.

“Yeah. I think I can,” he replied. He turned to him, grabbing onto his sleeve. “Sirius, I-”

He was interrupted by the soft press of lips against his, a slight graze of stubble as Sirius tilted his head into the kiss. Remus shut his eyes and leaned into it, Sirius’ arms coming around his waist as their lips parted. It was a small, chaste thing, and over far too soon, but Sirius leaned his forehead against his and just smiled afterward.

“Hey. Me first, remember?” Sirius said. Remus had never heard him speak so softly.

“I thought you didn’t want to do that,” he mumbled.

“Not before I could tell you everything.”

Remus glanced around at the inauspicious surroundings. “You haven’t told me anything.”

“I know,” Sirius said, shrugging. “But it felt like a Moment. Besides, we’re here, so you’ll know soon enough. Then if you… wanna do that some more, we can.”

Remus swallowed, not sure how to respond. He hadn’t banked on Sirius being so forward all of a sudden, but it made a kind of sense. It was just like Sirius to go for it once he made his mind up about something. “And where exactly is here?” he asked.

Sirius just shook his head, and pulled him by the hand towards a nearby front door. “You’re asking the wrong question, it’s not about where,” he said, and knocked.

The man who opened the door beamed at them, crow’s feet wrinkling around piercingly blue eyes. Remus couldn’t believe his eyes. “Mr Lupin, I presume. Sirius has told me a lot about you,” the man said amiably, holding out a hand.

“I wish I could say the same,” Remus said weakly, shaking it. “You’re Albus Dumbledore, aren’t you?” The man who invented the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, defeated Grindelwald, and then faded away into obscurity. Tucked away in this tiny little town. What the hell was Sirius caught up in?

“For my sins, yes. Now, you two had better come inside. The kettle should be boiled soon.”

* * *

 

 

“The Order of the Phoenix?” Remus asked later, as they wandered back down the road. “Isn’t the name a little… fanciful?”

“Take it up with Dumbledore, not me,” Sirius said. He was examining several sheets of parchment that Dumbledore had handed him on the way out, some kind of diagrams with thorough notes inked below each one. Neither of them had offered any explanation about them, and frankly Remus’ head was full to bursting with new information as it was, so he hadn’t asked.

“How did you end up working with Albus Dumbledore, of all people?” he asked. The man was a legend - Remus had his chocolate frog card - but he was known for eluding the public eye.

Sirius smiled. “I told you James and I shared a tutor for Charms.”

Purebloods. Of course Sirius and James’ parents had hired possibly the greatest wizard of the 20th century to run a study group. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, jealous as all hell.

“So, do you think you’ll do it?” Sirius asked. They were almost at the far end of the street now, where it would be safe to apparate.

“I don’t know if I can,” Remus admitted. Sirius had trusted him with this, with something that could endanger not just him but the entire country. He had to tell him everything, right now. He couldn’t stand lying any longer, not when Sirius had put so much at stake because he believed in him. “Sirius, there’s something I have to… What is it?”

Sirius had stopped dead in the street, knuckles white as they gripped the topmost piece of parchment. “The Death Eaters have been selling off all these dark objects,” he said slowly. “We figure at some point someone’s bound to bring something into the shop, so Dumbledore passes on details of anything he thinks You-Know-Who might be looking to get rid of, but look at this one… Look familiar to you?”

The sketch was of an old woman with a staff, kneeling as she plunged it into a mound of earth. Remus knew it instantly. It was the weirdest, ugliest paperweight he’d ever seen. “I’ve seen that. Upstairs, in that box-”

“-Of stuff Pete brought in, right.” Sirius’ mouth was a hard line, unreadable for once. “Maybe he didn’t know?”

“What does it do?” Remus asked, leaning over Sirius’ shoulder to read the details written out in an elaborately looped, but tidy, hand.

“It summons a vengeful spirit, apparently. The person someone would least want to see.”

Remus’ blood ran cold. “Oh, fuck. Sirius, I’ve been seeing Fenrir Greyback everywhere I go.”

“He’s been using it on you?” Sirius glanced up sharply.

“And using the shop to fence dark objects, I’d wager,” Remus pointed at the page. “You need to use an incantation, and something from the victim. It’s not something he could have used by accident.”

Sirius shoved the parchment into Remus’ arms, drawing his wand. “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to _kill_ him. I fucking trusted him. I gave him a job, to help him out. That bastard," he snarled.

Remus grabbed his arm before he could apparate. “Wait, let’s be smart about this. We’ll call the Aurors, and then we’ll go there and keep him talking.”

Sirius looked like he wanted to argue, but eventually he relaxed his wand arm. “It would be a lot more satisfying to burst in and hex his balls off,” he muttered.

 

* * *

Peter had his feet kicked up on the counter when they came in, biro clutched between his teeth as he examined a newspaper crossword. He beamed when he saw them. “Oh, hey guys. What did Dumbledore-”

“How long?” Sirius demanded, and that was Remus’ carefully planned out script thrown out of the window. So much for that, apparently they were winging this.

“How long what? Remus, what’s he talking about?” Peter asked, turning watery blue eyes onto him. Maybe it was because it was so close to the full moon, but a red hot anger he hadn’t been expecting flared in him at the sight. How dare he try to play innocent.

“How long have you been working for the Death Eaters?” he said, shocked at how low his voice came out.

“Oh, shit,” Peter said. He was on his feet in an instant, palms held up defensively.

“Oh, shit,” Sirius agreed, raising his wand. “What I can’t figure out is why. Why would you do this, Peter? You’re a half-blood, you can’t be buying into all this Pureblood supremacy crap.”

Peter’s nose twitched into a sneer then, like he’d finally realised he wasn’t talking his way out of this and decided to drop the act. “We both know it’s not about that, for the Dark Lord. All he wants is power, and he doesn’t care what he has to say to get it,” Peter said. His eyes were huge now, terrified, but not of them. “He’s going to win, Sirius, and when that happens, how do you think that’ll go for the Order? You do remember your cousin Bellatrix, right? What was I supposed to do when she said she’d tear my skin off piece by piece if I didn’t help them?”

“We trusted you, Peter.”

“Yes, well, maybe you’re a little too trusting, considering who you’re standing next to,” Peter said, a sly smile on his mouth as he looked at Remus.

“What are you talking about? Remus, what is he talking about?” Sirius demanded.

That sneer was back on Peter’s face now, confident that he’d turned the tables. “You haven’t told him?” he asked.

“I was _trying to_ when we realised what a rat you are.”

“You have no idea how true that is. The rats are the first things off a sinking ship, you know,” Peter said, nodding to himself, like he was repeating something he’d been told. “The Pack send their regards,” he smirked, winking at Remus before turning to Sirius. “He’s working for the Aurors. Telling them everything you do. I guess you’re just a terrible judge of character.”

“Is that true?” Sirius asked. He was looking at Remus like he’d never seen him before, and that hurt more than he would have expected.

“I was going to tell you. The night Greyback was killed, they- Sirius, he’s getting away!”

Peter had taken the opportunity of their distraction to transform, shrinking down until there was only a fat rat, scurrying for the door. Remus and Sirius both dove after him, but he slipped out of the front door, just as heavy boots kicked it open.

“Wands on the ground!” familiar voices yelled, and Remus was quick to comply. Sirius hesitated, but his wand clattered to the ground a moment later. Dawlish hoisted him to his feet as Scrimgeour held out a hand to pull Remus up. “Sirius Black, you’re under arrest for possession of dark artifacts with intent to supply.”

“Stop, what are you doing? He’s not the one I called you here for!” Remus said, rushing to the door. He froze at the sight in front of him.

“Then who is, Lupin? I don’t see anyone else here,” Dawlish snarled, struggling to hold Sirius as he struggled against him.

Remus just shook his head and stood back, holding the door open. There was a click of hooves on the threshold, and a gigantic pair of antlers breached the doorway. The deer trotted in with something held between its teeth, like it came there every day. Actually, Remus had his suspicions that it pretty much did. It dropped the unconscious rat at Dawlish’s feet and straightened up on its hind legs, resolving itself into James. “He is,” he said.

“What the _fuck,"_ Remus whispered.

 

* * *

Sometime that evening, after Scrimgeour and Dawlish had dragged as much information out of them all as they were willing or able to give, and Peter had been re-humanised and carted off to the Ministry, Remus found himself out on the doorstep with a cup of tea. The waxing moon was huge in the sky, and he eyed it with bitter resentment as he waited for Sirius to come.

He was prepared for yelling, for yet more questions. Painful as the prospect was, he was prepared for Sirius to say that he never wanted to see him again. His mind prepared any number of scenarios as he heard the footsteps approach him. The one thing he had not prepared for, however, was for a big black dog to lick his face.

“Of course this is you,” he said softly, turning to look at him. He stretched out a hand and ran his hand through soft fur. Sirius allowed it, before flopping down on Remus’ lap, and letting out a large huff.

Remus petted him between the ears, thinking for a while of what to say. “Fenrir Greyback was the one who turned me,” he began. Sirius let out a low whine and nuzzled into him. “About six months ago, he approached me. He was… recruiting. Recruiting for You-Know-Who. When I refused, he started sending threats, and then when threatening me didn’t work, he moved onto my parents. So, I sent him a request to meet, the night of the next full moon. I was planning to challenge him, wolf to wolf, but I guess the Aurors found the place the same night I did. Maybe they were watching me, I don’t know. All I know is that I woke up the next day with Rufus Scrimgeour and Dawlish looming over me. They told me what I already knew, that the werewolves would assume I’d led them there and be out for my blood. They offered me a deal. They’d protect me from the wolves and keep my name out of their reports, if I did something for them,” His hand met hair instead of fur, and he looked down to see Sirius looking up at him with those beautiful grey eyes, full of sorrow. “If I spied on someone they suspected of being tied to You-Know-Who.” he finished.

“And what did you tell them?” Sirius asked, voice hoarse.

“That I believed the man was innocent,” Remus said. He didn't take his eyes off Sirius. _Please don't hate me._ he thought. “I’ve been trying to prove his innocence this whole time.”

Sirius sat up, leaning his head on Remus’ shoulder instead. “I don’t blame you,” he said.

“I blame me,” Remus sighed, staring up at the moon. “What makes me any different to him?”

“You never deliberately set out to harm anyone,” Sirius said. He whisked Remus’ mug away and took a sip, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like all cups of tea belonged, in part, to him. Remus was so gone for him. “Look, the way I see it, at first you were investigating a possible Death Eater,” he said carefully. “I didn’t trust you either at first. Wanted to jump your bones, but I didn’t trust you,” he said, pulling a smile from Remus against his will. “It took me until… oh, some time this morning, to decide to trust you. Which I think is when you made a similar decision about me. We were both cautious about revealing stuff that could have got people hurt. Peter fucked over his friends and the whole wizarding world because he’s a self-serving piece of shit.” Sirius shrugged. “Don’t compare yourself to him. _Never_ compare yourself to him.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Remus mumbled, leaning into him. Somehow, miraculously, they were OK. Remus didn’t deserve him, but he thought he could work on that. The Order could help him work on that, now he was finally free of Scrimgeour and Dawlish. They stayed like that a while, neither of them feeling the need to speak.

“Companionable silences, see?” Sirius sighed at last. “You’ve got to love them.”

Remus didn’t answer, eyes locked with the figure who had just appeared on the pavement, as if from nowhere. He stood.

“Oh shit, is he here?” Sirius asked. Remus nodded. “Creepy bastard. Well, you know what the parchment said.”

The spirit would leave if the host - Remus - looked him dead in the eyes and spoke the truth. The reason that spirit was the one they feared the most.

“I’m not responsible for your death,” Remus said, locking eyes with Greyback. The werewolf grinned at him, all sharp teeth and wild grey hair, mocking and sinister. Remus felt the wolf rise up in him, lip curling up to reveal his own teeth as he looked deep into that well of anger and resentment. He gripped Sirius’ hand tight, and thought about a five year old boy with no way of understanding what had happened to him. What he’d become. “I’m not responsible… but I wish I was,” he growled.

Greyback vanished, for the final time, and took the darkness with him.


End file.
